A Ride Through the Shadows
by Miranda Crystal-Bearer
Summary: Rated for suspense. A songfic as Arwen spirits Frodo to Rivendell.


A Ride Through Shadows  
  
"Night Ride Across The Caucasus"  
  
The light blossomed in his eyes. She came riding, a vision fair, an angel sent to save him from the misted shadows. Arwen Undomiel dismounted from her noble white steed, and with a swish of her dress, came to kneel at his side. She spoke a few hurried words to Aragorn, who answered. He could barely catch the fleeing syllables, and guessed it to be Elvish.  
  
Then Aragorn was placing him on the broad back of the white horse that stood, tense as a drawn bowstring, yet waiting for his mistress's command. Arwen and Aragorn talked a few moments more, and then she mounted behind him. He felt her slim arms slip around him and grasp the horse's mane to secure her grip. Her arms were surprisingly strong, considering she was a maiden. The bells on the horse's harness jangled softly as he shifted beneath them.  
  
"Ride fast, dearheart. Ride hard, and don't look back, Arwen," Aragorn spoke.  
  
"I will, my love. Noro lim, Asfaloth, noro lim!" She spoke in Sindarin to the Elf-horse, and the white stallion responded to her command, leaping out into a canter from a standstill.  
  
Frodo felt the sweeping strides of the stallion, and heard the wind sing in his ears. The bells of the harness shrilled a sweet yet harsh song. Arwen's arms around him secured his seat on the broad back of Asfaloth. The bells and the wind and his half-conscious state combined, and a melody began to ring in his ears. The horse's hooves thrummed out the beat, the rhythm the long, reaching strides. Words began to form in Frodo's mind, almost an Elvish song.  
  
Mmm, ride on, through the night, ride on  
  
There are visions, there are memories  
  
There are echoes of thundering hooves  
  
There are fires, there is laughter  
  
There's the sound of a thousand doves  
  
As the words swept through Frodo's mind, they stirred his spirit, and he again saw the faces of his friends through the mist that clouded his thoughts. Sam's caring smile. Merry's laughing smirk. Pippin's care-free grin. The beat of Asfaloth's feet changed, and broke through his thoughts for a brief instant. He saw Bilbo's party, and thought of the fireworks, and the bonfires. The mirth that had rung in the air that night. The thoughts revived him a little, and he barely opened his eyes to the shadowed world. As Asfaloth leapt over a log, he startled a covet of white birds. They flapped away, frightened, wings whistling in the night air.  
  
In the velvet of the darkness  
  
By the silhouette of silent trees  
  
They are watching waiting  
  
They are witnessing life's mysteries  
  
They were cantering through a dark forest. Mist writhed and twisted at the edges of Frodo's sight. Dark shapes of trees flashed by, barely to bee seen. He heard Arwen whispering in his ear, but the melody of her voice was snatched away by the rushing wind, drowned out by the song that beat feverishly in his mind.  
  
Cascading stars on the slumbering hills  
  
They are dancing as far as the sea  
  
Riding o'er the land, you can feel its gentle hand  
  
Leading on to its destiny  
  
The control Frodo had managed to find slipped, and he spun away into an evil-haunted dream. But through the darkling shadows burst a vision of gently sloping sand dunes, covered in waving grass. The elusive, unforgettable sound of the waves sweeping over the shore rang in his ears. He then could see the foaming, flowing water that swept up onto the moon- kissed beach. He looked up, and the stars shone brighter than he had ever seen. They intensified, and then he was back again, riding in front of an Elf-maiden, watching the trees fade into open lands. Arwen's voice suddenly whispered in his ear, rising in a stirring song that had drawn him back.  
  
Take me with you on this journey  
  
Where the boundaries of time are now tossed  
  
In the cathedrals of the forest  
  
In the words of the tongues now lost  
  
The open meadows again became trees, tall, dark pines. The breeze whispered through the branches and needles, the sound mimicking the pounding surf, the washing of waves on sand. Then the waves became voices speaking in a language Frodo had never heard, whispering things in an ancient tongue he had never known 'til now. They joined the song, slowly the strange tongue becoming Westron.  
  
Find the answers, ask the questions  
  
Find the roots of an ancient tree  
  
Take me dancing, take me singing  
  
I'll ride on till the moon meets the sea  
  
Mmm, ride on, through the night, ride on  
  
The washing of waves on sand. The whisper of wind through pines. The beat of the stallion's hooves. The whistling wings of doves. The melody of Arwen's voice. All of a sudden, the dream of light and peace that sheltered Frodo was ripped apart by the shrill scream of a Nazgul. Fear flashed through him. He felt Arwen gasp, and felt her lean closer to the Elf- horse's neck.  
  
"Noro lim, Asfaloth! O, noro lim! Elbereth Gilthoniel edraith men!" she cried, terror echoing in her desperate plea.  
  
Asfaloth responded with a bound, increasing his speed. The hoofbeats quickened from a three-beat gate into a four-beat one, and this quickened until it sounded almost as one. The horse's muscles bunched and released under Frodo, and even in his dazed state he realized the stallion was running his fastest. A glance at Asfaloth's ears revealed they were swept flat against his skull, buried in his flowing white mane, so great was the Elf-horse's fear of the Black Riders. The bells on the harness rang wild and shrill, and the wind sang sharply in Frodo's ears, whistling through the white mane that stung his face and through Arwen's dark hair that swept behind her, torn free from its braid.  
  
"Elbereth!" Arwen shrieked. "Edraith men, Fanuilos!"  
  
Frodo felt the dark presence of the Riders gather in force, and knew that more had come. He did not know, however, that five were already after them, and two had just leapt out at their flanks. He felt the horse twist beneath him, and rise. He and Arwen were nearly unseated at the sudden jump. Asfaloth was not heeding his mistress anymore; he was running wildly, driven on by the fear of the evil wraithes that were close on his heels.  
  
Arwen screamed, a shrill, piercing noise terrible to hear, almost rivaling the Nazgul's shrieks. It was horror-filled, and Frodo felt her body stiffen and her grip around him become tighter, fearful. He looked up with bleared sight, and saw, between Asfaloth's flattened ears, two of the Black Riders ahead, cutting off their path of escape across the wide field.  
  
They thundered ahead, Asfaloth simply running, the Elf-horse blind with terror, fleeing to his stables. The bells on his harness ran wild and shrill. Too late did he sense the Riders ahead, and did not even try to pull up. If it had been possible, he seemed to increase his speed. Frodo felt a flash of coldness pierce him like a spear as, with a last spurt of speed, like a flash of white fire, the Elf-horse speeding as if on wings, they passed just before the faces of the Riders.  
  
"Asfaloth, noro lim, vell!" Arwen urged. Her tiring mount surged forward, and Frodo felt water splash him.  
  
Arwen drew her horse to a halt. Asfaloth reared up at the hold she kept him in, and the bells on his harness rang. He wanted to keep running, spent though he was. She understood the fear that pressed in on him as she saw the Nine Riders on the bank of the ford. Their black horses were lathered, breathing heavily, as was her own Asfaloth. Yet their eyes glowed with an evil, reddish light, like smouldering coals. Their bits jangled as they tossed their heads and jigged impatiently, blowing until foam came out of their flared nostrils.  
  
"Give us the Halfling, she-Elf," the Rider in the middle demanded in a gravelly, hissing voice. Arwen shuddered at the sound. But she gathered her courage, and one hand slipped to her sword.  
  
"If you want him, come and claim him!" she called, drawing her sword with a ringing clang.  
  
To her dismay, all the Riders drew their swords in answer, the blades a misted black, evil flowing from them in waves. The middle Rider, the Ninth Nazgul, urged his horse into the ford. Arwen backed Asfaloth onto the other bank as she intoned lowly a spell. There was a faint roaring, and suddenly there burst around the corner a raging flood. The waves were crested with white foam, and these crests seemed to take shape into white riders on white horses, and flickering tongues of white fire danced on other wave- crests.  
  
The leader's horse reared and screamed, and then the flood hit. It swept the black horses off their feet, and their terrified neighs shrilled out, until they were lost in the roaring of the flood. As the fury of the waters passed, one lone, shrill shriek trailed out, only to be lost in the distance. Arwen shuddered, and realized that Frodo was a dead weight against her arm.  
  
With a cry, she sheathed her sword and slipped from Asfaloth's broad back. She laid Frodo on the ground. His face was pale, his lips parted in a gasping breath, eyes dulled and rolling back into his head. "Oh, please, Frodo, hang on, please!" she pleaded as he moaned in pain. Tears rolled down her face as she gathered him to her, in her arms, and turned to mount Asfaloth again, so that she might spirit the Ring-bearer to her father, Elrond Halfelven, the lord of Rivendell.  
  
"Noro lim, Asfaloth." = "Run fast, Asfaloth."  
  
"Elbereth Gilthoniel edraith men!" = "Elbereth Starkindler save us!"  
  
"Edraith men, Fanuilos!" = "Save us, Everwhite!"  
  
"Noro lim, Asfaloth, vell." = "Run fast, Asfaloth, dear."  
  
Some of you said my translations were sketchy. Elvish is very, very hard to learn or translate. I thought I did well, but I guess I need to try again. And about Arwen being scared of the Ringwraiths, well, I would definitely be scared, Aragorn was scared, Frodo was terrified, and all in the battles were horrified, so why wouldn't Arwen be scared? True, she was very brave and very wise, but nothing was completely proof against those Nazgul! 


End file.
